


Deprived

by MindNoise



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angsty angst. Tommy and Adam have a conversation in deprivation/isolation tanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deprived

Tommy follows Adam into the small therapy room. He stares at the two tubular contraptions sitting side by side on the floor. They look like coffins from the future.

“These are two of our isolation tanks,” the therapist tells them. “They are light and sound proof, and the Epsom salt water is the temperature of your skin, so you won’t be hot or cold.”

Tommy scoffs inwardly. He’s always cold, it won’t matter what that water’s temperature is.

“You each lie in one of the tanks,” she continues. “I’ll close the lid, and you will be isolated for an hour. Your ears will be submerged, so please wear the ear plugs provided. Your body may float, but that’s due to the salt water. Just relax.”

Tommy glances over at Adam and sees he’s taking all this in. Tommy can’t figure out how floating in a tank of water is supposed to jumpstart creativity, but it’s what Adam wants to do. And they haven’t seen each other in months.

“Some people fall asleep,” the therapist says. “Some hallucinate.”

“Hallucinate?” Tommy asks incredulously.

“Yes,” she says. “When you deprive the senses and they’re free from stimulation, the body seems to disappear. A lot of people do this for creative experiences. Muscle tension is gone, blood pressure and heart rate drop, and your self awareness increases. Which can lead to an inspirational process. It’s a lot like meditation.”

Adam is fascinated, it’s written all over his face. He grins at Tommy like this is the best idea he’s ever had. Tommy sighs.

“If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you to undress. When you’re ready, hit the green button on the wall next to the door, lie down in your tanks, and I’ll come in and close them.”

They had no questions, and she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

“Really?” Tommy asks, turning to Adam.

“Come on,” Adam says. “It helps creativity. And I’m feeling stuck right now.”

“Well, you’ve been on tour with Queen for months,” Tommy points out. “I guess you do get stuck when it’s not your own music.”

“I’ve loved every minute,” Adam says, taking off his shirt. “But it’s time to get back to my music.”

“I hope this helps,” Tommy says, turning away. “I’m curious why you wanted me along. It’s kind of a solitary thing in here.”

When Adam doesn’t answer, he turns back. Adam’s holding his shirt in his hands, twisting it into a ball.

“I’ve missed you,” he answers in a soft tone. “I don’t know, I wanted to do this, and I wanted to share it with you.”

The hopeful, honest look on Adam’s face makes Tommy feel like shit for slamming this isolation tank thing as yuppy hogwash. Then again, Adam’s been off gallivanting around the world with one of the greatest rock bands in history while Tommy had to find another band to play with to keep a paycheck coming. Not that he dislikes his new band and not that he’s ditching Adam’s band, but when Adam’s not there and not focused on his own music and tours, well Tommy has to branch out as well. He’s so proud of Adam, yet he can’t help feeling left behind and forgotten. And a little angry.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, clearing his throat and turning away again. He lightens his tone. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else so count yourself lucky.”

He hears Adam laugh, a light, breathy laugh, and Tommy shivers. He hopes Adam didn’t notice. He tugs off his shirt and pants, throwing them in a corner. In his underwear, he turns to the tank, avoiding looking at Adam.

“I guess we just get in,” he mumbles to himself.

“I’ll hit the green button,” Adam says.

Tommy steps in. The water is tepid and shallow. He’s not sure how he won’t be cold lying in tepid water. He likes hot water. He feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Ear plugs, Tommy.” Adam holds up the small plastic balls. Before he can take them, Adam is placing them in Tommy’s ears, gently pushing aside his hair. It’s intimate. Too intimate for the time they’ve spent apart, and Tommy turns away from him. Adam doesn’t say anything, but Tommy can feel the hurt coming off him. He sits down in the water. Adam steps into his tank and sits. Tommy glances over at his friend, but Adam’s not looking at him. He’s looking down and Tommy feels an ache in his heart, the ache that wants more than anything for things to be like they were before all of the Queen tours, before Adam forgot him and what being his friend, being in his band and part of his journey meant to Tommy. He wants badly to cling to Adam and tell him everything is okay, they’re fine, nothing’s wrong, but he resists. Adam lies down in his tank and Tommy follows his lead, as always. When the therapist comes in and closes the lids, Tommy closes his eyes.

It’s dark, and all noise disappears, just shut off like a switch was thrown. He’ll just take a nap and be done with this. He’s here to appease Adam anyway. He takes deep breath and feels himself float. He can’t tell if the floating sensation is his body in the salt water or his mind just drifting off. Either way, he just goes with it. He can hear himself breathing inside his head. Tension drains from his muscles and he relaxes. He begins to hear conversations past in his mind, music, laughter, memories. Adam’s high laughter mixed with his own, Adam’s voice whispering smartass comments in his ear, and Tommy smiles. His best friend, the love of his life that no one knows about, the one who gave him a chance in his band, it’s all centered in Adam, and Tommy smiles wider, relishing the memories. But with the good comes the not so good, and he hears the goodbyes, the broken promises, and he feels the waiting. So much waiting while Adam was off doing everything to further his name without any of his own crew. Tommy made the choice to wait, sure, but he talked himself into not taking long term gigs or permanent positions because Adam would be back soon, back to his own music, and Tommy was willingly committed as lead guitarist. But it hasn’t happened yet. And Tommy just waited. He hears chords strumming in memory, old chords, new chords, would be chords, Adam humming, and the longing builds in his chest again. He doesn’t want to float in this anymore, not in these memories, these visions, or in this tank. He opens his eyes.

He’s sitting cross-legged on a stage, but there’s nothing beyond the edge of it. It’s a dark abyss out there. The only dim light comes from an invisible source, shining down on him. He must’ve fallen asleep. He feels a presence next to him and he glances to his right. He sees a pair of legs hanging over a stool. He recognizes those long legs clad in jeans, the bare feet with black nail polish peeking out from under the hem. He leans and wraps his arms around a leg, hugging it, feeling comfort. He closes his eyes as a hand pets his hair. He looks up into eyes that always see straight into his soul.

“You’re too far away,” Adam says.

Without a word, Tommy climbs up into Adam’s lap, straddling him, his legs hanging off each side.

“Why is there a wall between us?” Adam asks.

The question hurts Tommy and he swallows with difficulty. He doesn’t know how the wall got there, it just appeared after so much distance and time apart. Resentment grew when it shouldn’t have and he’s ashamed of it. And now Adam patiently waits for the answer.

“Time,” Tommy shrugs. “Distance.”

Adam stares at him, his eyes searching inside, and Tommy squirms.

“You keep leaving,” Tommy admits. “I know it’s your job, and I don’t want to take away from that at all, not ever. But you....”

He stops and looks away.

“I what?” Adam prods.

“You forget,” Tommy states.

“What do I forget?” he asks softly.

“Me,” Tommy blurts, looking back at Adam. “You forget that I’m here, that I’m waiting. I know it’s your journey, it’s your dream, but I thought I was part of it.”

“You are part of my journey,” Adam says, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist. “You’re part of my life, my heart, my soul, nothing changes that. No matter where I go, what I do, you’re with me.”

“But you’re not here,” Tommy says. “How can I know that when you’re not here? You come back, then you leave again. Come back, then gone. You’re participating in someone else’s band, someone else’s music, someone else’s creativity.... You’re making that live again, and that’s amazing, it’s an honor, but...What about your own? What about our music? I don’t want to do it without you.”

His emotions are rising and he doesn’t like it. It makes him too open and vulnerable.

“I’m coming back to do my own,” Adam tells him in a placating tone. “And I hope you’ll do it with me.”

Tommy feels an irrational surge of anger.

“Oh so I’m supposed to just keep waiting?” he snaps. “Until you decide you’re ready? What’s it matter if I’m there or not? You’ve got plenty of other musicians to choose from, people falling all over themselves to do anything for you. And probably everything to you.”

“What does that mean?” Adam asks in a short tone.

 Tommy snorts. “You have the world to choose from. You have other guitarists to work with. You don’t need me. And you don’t have me, you won’t take me with you, you won’t take me at all. But god knows you have every other guy that swoons your way.”

“What are you talking about?” Adam asks, confusion and cautious understanding creasing his brow.

Tommy clamps his mouth shut, then murmurs, “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

He moves to get up, but Adam holds him down in his lap.

“Talk,” he demands. And Tommy usually does what Adam asks.

“We’re friends, right?” he asks, and Adam nods. “So how come I don’t have a clue what you’re doing, where you’re at or going? You don’t text, you don’t call, I find out what you’re doing from fucking twitter and facebook!”

Adam mutters a swear, looking defeated.

“You’re too busy for anybody,” Tommy continues. “You make time for friends in large groups going to the same boring ass party, but not for one on one time. Like you don’t have time for anyone else when you’re not on tour, especially me when another guitarist is playing your gigs outside of Queen and I haven’t heard from you in over a week.”

Tommy,” Adam starts, but Tommy doesn’t let him finish.

“Yeah, I had no idea about that show until it was all the fuck over twitter, and how stupid did I feel seeing someone else up there playing for you?” he shouts. “Pretty fucking stupid. And abandoned.”

“No,” Adam says, shaking his head. “I’d never abandon you.”

“But you have,” Tommy states, quieting down. “You moved on. And now I have to.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” Adam says. “It’s not how things are.”

Tommy gives him a hard smile. “Well it looks that way from where I’m standing.”

“Then stand somewhere else,” Adam snaps. “I’m very sorry that I’ve let you down. I’m very sorry you feel abandoned. I’m very sorry that I’ve been out there busting my ass to make my dream come true and go further than I ever thought possible. I’m very sorry you feel so damn left out of everything. God forbid Tommy isn’t the center of every fucking thing I do.”

Tommy shrinks back, surprised and feeling off kilter by Adam’s outburst.

“Frankly, I don’t think that’s your entire problem,” Adam concludes. “Is it?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me what you meant when you said I won’t take you at all?” Adam asks.

Ah hell, Tommy thinks. That didn’t slip past him.

“Nothing,” he states flatly, trying to gear up his anger again, put that wall back in place between them.

“Nothing my ass, you meant something,” Adam says. “Now’s the time to tell.”

Tommy fidgets and looks around Adam at the darkness surrounding the edges of the stage they’re on. Everything feels so surreal, even the air.

 “Tommy Joe,” Adam says sternly.

“I’m afraid you don’t love me,” he replies mechanically, staring as if in a trance into the dark over Adam’s shoulder. “I love you, I’m in love with you, it hurts and I’m scared.”

He feels Adam’s body soften around him, the hostility dissolve.

“I don’t love anyone as much as I love you,” Adam admits.

“But there are others,” Tommy states sadly.

“Not anymore,” Adam promises.

Tommy wants so badly to believe him.

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust what I say?” Adam asks, reading Tommy’s thoughts. Tommy shakes his head, looking back at Adam. “Then believe me now.”

Tommy’s smile is small and unsure. Adam runs a thumb over Tommy’s cheekbone, then pulls his mouth to his. Tommy leans into the kiss. It’s a real kiss, not the stage kiss he’s accustomed to. In either case, Adam dominates it, and Tommy lets himself be surrounded. He wraps his arms around Adam and holds on tight, pulling his body closer. Adam’s stage kisses are usually intense, but this one has intention, true desire and love behind it, and Tommy shivers. Can he handle this in the long run? Can he handle being apart once he’s in too deep to even see straight? He doesn’t want to think about that, and he presses closer. He doesn’t expect the spark that jolts through him when his cock rubs against Adam. It takes him by surprise, almost scaring him, reminding him he hasn’t been touched in a long time by anyone. Adam changes the angle of the kiss and Tommy drifts back into it, fear be damned. He feels Adam’s fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans, and then, suddenly, Adam’s hand is inside, holding him, skin to skin. Tommy’s hips push upward into Adam’s hand and the most delicious want spreads through him. He moves into Adam’s hand unconsciously, the heat in his groin building, the tingle in his toes itching. Adam’s mouth moves to his neck, behind his ear, down the side, gently biting the dip between his neck and shoulder.

“Believe me, Tommy,” Adam whispers in his ear.

Tommy nods. Right now he’ll agree to anything to finish this.

“Look at me,” Adam demands.

Tommy looks at Adam, halting his movements.

“Don’t stop,” Adam says. “Just look right here. Because you’re mine.”

Tommy resumes his pace, gazing into Adam’s eyes, into Adam. He sees love and laughter. He sees fun and happiness and ingenuity. He sees life and passion. He sees his heart. It doesn’t take long for the intensity to build and he comes into Adam’s hand, Adam’s eyes devouring him. Adam kisses him gently, as though he might break. When Tommy opens his eyes, he’s awake in the tank. The fact it was all a dream breaks his heart and tears slip from the corners of his eyes. He wipes them away angrily, taking deep breaths to get control of himself. He pushes on the lid, lifting it, and sits up. He looks over and sees Adam lifting his lid and sitting up as well. Adam looks as uncertain as Tommy feels. And he looks almost as devastated as Tommy feels.

Tommy glances around, not sure what to say or do.

“Well did it help?” Tommy asks, his voice breaking. “Did it help your creativity, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Adam answers, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what happened. I thought it was real, but... I guess not.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Me too. Think I was dreaming.”

They each get out of the tanks, avoiding looking at one another, and start to dry off. The therapist opens the door.

“Oh, you’re out already,” she says, surprised. “Not a lot of people wake up on their own. Shows what strong minds you have.”

Adam smiles politely, but he looks almost sick.

“I hope the experience was good,” she continues.

“Well, I dreamed I was on a stage with him,” Tommy points to Adam, and fiddling with his towel. “No audience, no instruments, no nothing, so I’m not sure my powers of creation are up and running. Apparently I just took a nap.”

“What?” Adam asks, startled. “Stage? I dreamed I was on a stage with you and there was nothing at all there except you and me. And the stool I was sitting on.”

Tommy stops, feeling a tingle of fear and excitement at the base of his stomach.

“Oh that happens sometimes when people do this together side by side,” the therapist says. “They think they’re just having the same dream when actually their minds have become so clear and free in the tanks that they’ve intertwined and joined into the same interactive process.”

“Seriously?” Adam asks. He looks hopeful. Tommy holds his breath.

“Sure,” she replies. “It’s usually two people who are already closely bonded in life. So it’s very possible your minds were actually joined during this hour.”

Tommy stares at Adam. Because if this were true....

“I’ll leave you to finish drying off and dressing,” the therapist says. “I’ll meet you out front. Take your time.”

She closes the door, leaving Adam and Tommy to stare at each other, absorbing what she said, and what they said and did. Tommy suddenly feels shy, and he starts to fidget with his towel again. He looks back at Adam. Adam smiles.

“Guess we have a few things to talk about,” Adam says.

“I think we already did that,” Tommy says, his cheeks flushing.

Adam laughs. “We had the difficult conversation. Now it’s time for the fun talk.”

“Fun talk?” Tommy asks.

Adam nods. “Yeah, where we talk about our relationship and all the things we’re gonna do from here. Together.”

The smile on Tommy’s face is so wide it hurts. They dress in silence, but the excitement between them is palpable. When they turn to leave, Adam stops him.

“I never meant to make you feel unwanted or left out,” Adam says. “I’m really sorry.”

Tommy nods. “I understand. It gets hard doing everything you want to do with everything you’re expected to do, and then people pulling you in all directions when you come home. I get it. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal of it.”

“No, you should have,” Adam says. “I was neglecting you, us, and that shouldn’t happen.”

“It shouldn’t?” Tommy asks, his heart thudding. Adam nods, and he asks, “Why not?”

Adam grins. “Because you’re mine, Tommy Joe.”

Tommy blushes furiously and leans his head into Adam’s chest. Adam hugs him tightly and kisses him on top of his head. Tommy feels jittery inside with excitement, love, and contentment.

“So are you mad I joined another band?” Tommy ventures to ask.

“Not at all,” Adam says. “I get to be in the audience for you now. I’m excited about that.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy replies. “Adam Lambert is my groupie, bitches.”

Adam laughs loudly as they leave the therapy room.


End file.
